Luckily, Christian had already boxed up the toys that had lost their magical life. He’d boxed everyone up when he’d moved, and he had only unboxed the still-alive automatons when he’d unpacked at Safi’s apartment. Well, Safi and his apartment, now. Still, he had noticed how uncomfortable the bodyguard had seemed with the toys, even the alive ones, so he had figured to keep the rest of them in the box.

And after a couple of weeks, not only did it not bother him to have them out of sight and maybe mostly out of mind, but he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with keeping them.

They weren’t people anymore. And they weren’t really corpses, either. They were just toys. Toys he didn’t play with, toys that were in a box in a closet hidden behind a hamper. There weren’t many places in Central or Gotham that would sell his little creations for more than they had cost to make, and really, he at least wanted to get his money back out of them if he were going to sell them.

How else could he make new creations?

So he wandered into the building, a realtor from the looks of it, wondering if whoever it was that worked here might be able to at least point him in the right direction, to someone might be willing to either purchase his box of automatons, or at least consign them for some small fee or percentage.

Stepping through the doorway with his box between his arms, Christian smiled, “Hello… I… Was wondering if you might be able to help me? I know you’re a realtor, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask if you know of any place where I could sell some… Toys?”

Death blinked fussily at the mortal entry rang the small bell attached to her door. “Well I suppose it might depend on the sort of toys.” She began friendly enough, “who they are meant for, use that sort of thing. Almost everything has some sort of value here...but I suppose conversely almost everything is worthless depending on who you ask.”
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Death blinked fussily at the mortal entry rang the small bell attached to her door. “Well I suppose it might depend on the sort of toys.” She began friendly enough, “who they are meant for, use that sort of thing. Almost everything has some sort of value here...but I suppose conversely almost everything is worthless depending on who you ask.”

The lady was pretty. Christian was careful with his box; these friends might not no longer possess the life they once had, but that didn’t make them any less fragile or special. A photograph of your friend only gained more emotional value once they had passed, and his toys were similar.

Still, there was no true need to keep them, and they deserved more than to be stuffed into a box in a closet and forgotten about.

When she spoke and said it depended on the toys, Chris gave her a small smile and opened the box, careful and quiet, showing her the treasure trove of clockwork toys, many in the form of humanity, but many more in other various shapes and sizes, from crabs and spiders and little dogs and cats to music boxes and even a small carriage. “Mostly figurines, but I have other things.” He looked at the hand crafted creations lovingly, “They just need good homes.”

“Oh they are adorable!” Death clapped her hands together, reaching for the box to lay on the counter, tenderly laying out the dolls out. “I will buy them. What are you looking for in trade?” She smiled at him. “Or I can give credit at several establishments house currency.” She offered pulling a scroll seemingly at random opening it up to show him where she kept accounts, the green goddess, Fizzles apothecary, the the Wandering moon inn as well as a doctor's clinic were listed.

“Do they still run? Or?” She wondered fingertips tracing over the featureless faces lightly.

So Christian had heard several adjectives to describe his little automatons. Beautiful, intricate, creepy… But never, ever had anyone called them adorable. Growing up, he had settled with unique and skillful as positives, and creepy, weird, and ghoulish as negative responses. With time, he kept them more and more secreted away, only showing people he thought might accept them. He was often wrong about it; one of his more positive responses had been Safi’s, who had thought them creepy, but hadn’t turned his nose up, not really, and he hadn’t left, either, so… Acceptance, if not admiration or enjoyment.

Did they run?? Chris actually looked almost insulted at the question; “Yes, they run. They…” His face scrunched a little bit as he admitted, “They’re just toys. Wind them up, and they run, some longer than others; the bigger ones take more winding than the smaller ones… But all of them work.” they just weren’t alive anymore.

Considering Who it was who was telling him they were adorable perhaps it held less weight. Of course all he saw was a fussy little woman running her fingers appreciatively over the delicate workmanship.

She nodded at his explanation “Is this all of them? Do you make more?” Death tapped the scroll, “pick, or-” she cocked her head, “would you prefer something from your world in trade?”

Well, if Christian had actually, really, realized who it was that he was speaking with, well, maybe it would have made the compliment make a tiny bit more sense. It might also make her interest in his toys make more sense, too. Or less sense. But probably more; they were ‘dead’ after all, what life he had lent them had fled the little machines, leaving them little more as toy corpses. Adorable was not the word anyone else would use for them, but Christian loved them nonetheless, and he continued to make them, if putting more thought into how it appeared, and how it would affect others. Like Belle and Safi.

All of them? “Well… These are the ones that…” He shifted, “That I can part with right now. I’m always making more,” because they died, and… Well, when they did that, he made more. “You really like them? I can bring others when I have more…” He looked at the scroll she offered and then pointed to a few different places, the alchemy shop (because that sounded interesting), the doctor’s next door (he was responsible), the green goddess (he liked the Romulan ale), and another place that served food. If he could get some credit with these places… Maybe he could expand, like Tony had said, he could make money doing this. “Not from my world, though… I have resources there.” He needed resources here.

Yes she liked them, her hands stroked over the mechanical automatons lovingly, “Yes. Bring them. They shall stay with me.” there was something in her voice that seemed to whisper always,forever into his ear.

Death produced a pen absently, “Sign that we have a bargain, and they will show your credit at each establishment, the prices are fairly fixed so and the ones you have chosen do not often scalp newcomers.” a deep something would tug at him when Chris signed his name, nothing harmful, but it would put to mind the idea of when he used his blood magic...

Stay with her. That… That didn’t really sound like a bad thing for his little toys. With the spark that had made them alive gone, they deserved to be somewhere they would be appreciated, not boxed up and shoved into a dark closet to rust. And this lady, she seemed… She definitely appreciated them, that was for sure. He got the idea that she would be the last owner any of them would know, and that was something in and of itself. To know that they would stay here, that they would be cared for… “You’ll take care of them?” It was silly, to ask it, but.. “If one ever breaks, I can come fix it for you.” He was inordinately fond of the little toys, and he knew it. It was one more reason to sell them… Before he couldn’t.

Taking the pen, Christian hesitated only a moment. They were just toys now, not the individuals he had come to care for. Just toys. And then he signed, blinking at the sensation. Almost recognizing it as something similar to certain kinds of magic, and he looked at the woman he had sold his toys to, “What… What was that?” He didn’t like not knowing; he’d felt that, felt something tug at him, and he wasn’t sure if that was...okay.

Safi would be angry with him if he knew about that little tug. But it hadn’t been expected. So Chris frowned at her, brown eyes asking for an explanation.